Lie With Me
by NellietheMarvelous
Summary: Written as the night before STILL. 'She comes here when she wants him. When she needs him. And Castle is perfectly okay with all of it. He loves her. But lately, she comes here because she can. Because she wants to snuggle. Because she needs to be next to him.'


**Disclaimer: I'd have a lot more money if I owned Castle.  
**

**A/N: When Castle says "You got in _late_ last night." This popped into my head and I'm finally writing it. Just short fuzzy feels because there is way too much angst happening.  
**

She comes here when she wants him. When she needs him. And Castle is perfectly okay with all of it. He loves her. But lately, she comes here because she can. Because she wants to snuggle. Because she needs to be next to him.

He hears the moment she comes in - the click of the door a soft sound as if she's pushing it shut slowly, trying to be as silent as possible but it still registers in his brain. Wakes him up enough that he's aware of her. Must be late but he can't even open his eyes enough to seek out the clock. He sees...blur. Nothing but faded darkness, shapes that don't make any sense. Even through his haze of sleep, he knows it's her, knows his girlfriend's the one padding softly through the living room even if he can't will himself to move or even mumble anything coherently.

It's her shadow that enters the bedroom, casts over him, makes him want to reach out and touch her. He almost does, almost convinces his limbs to cooperate but she's gone before he has the chance. He sighs, rolls over to face her side of the bed. She doesn't actually have a side, she just crawls in and pretends that she sleeps in a contained area. No. She pushes against him, pulls the blankets, kicks them to the bottom of the bed and somehow always ends up in the middle of the mattress or her legs take over. Those endless legs. Soft and warm.

She's a bed hog and he loves every bit of it. A bang makes him jump, forces his eyes open as his heart immediately races. It takes him a second to realize everything is okay, that the sound came from the bathroom. She's in there and he smiles at the sound of her cursing. A hushed '_shit_' that's definitely directed at the cabinet that just woke him. Kate Beckett, NYPD Detective, tossing profanity around at inanimate objects.

He settles back into his pillow, closes his eyes again and lets the sound of the running water soothe him. He knows her routine. Knows that she's pulling her hair out of her face, ridding herself of as much makeup as possible and brushing her teeth. She'll change into her pajamas and he really hopes it's those shorts that he loves. The ones that show off her legs and leave so much of them bare for his hands to explore.

It hits him as the rushing of the water silences that this is normal. This is what they do. She could have went home because it's late and instead she came here. She's choosing him over and over. She's puttering around in his bathroom, shedding her work attire and everything that goes with it, becoming the soft pliable woman that creeps into his bed. Steals touches and kisses like they're hers for the taking. And really, they are. She can take all she wants because he isn't about to tell her no. He isn't going to let her go.

He almost dozes off with that thought circling in his brain, gets so close to crossing over into sleep but the mattress shifts. It rocks him back into the land of the living and he feels the tug of the blankets being lifted.

The heat of her settles in, a sigh falling as she relaxes. He looks at her then, blinks rapidly in the dark as he tries to clear his vision. He can make out her silhouette. The sharp slope of her nose, the pout of her lips, the glimmer of her eyes. The way her hair lies limp against the white of the pillowcase. He's not the one who reaches, he's content to watch her and fall back asleep as she sorts through her thoughts but she isn't. She turns, lets her body seek his.

She pushes into him, starting with her fingers on his chest. And then her hand slips up his shoulder, circles around and dances up into his hair. She melts into him and he loves every bit of it. How she does this. How she wants to be as close as possible. The way she slides her foot along his shins, pushes her toes between them until he's relaxing, letting her ease her leg to rest solidly cocooned between his. She tangles them. Weaves their bodies together, shifts her hips to align with him and he coughs out a little groan.

Even when she doesn't try, the woman is a vixen. He grips her waist, digs his fingers into the soft sweater she's wearing because they're both exhausted but it feels like it's been days since they've even touched. So he gives in, nuzzles his nose over hers in an Eskimo kiss. She comes here to sleep. She doesn't have to but she does. She uses her key, enters his home with just the intent to crawl into bed with him after a long day. That's where they are.

"S'late."

"Mm." Warm soft lips press into his - a lazy kiss that tells him just how tired she really is. "Sleep, Castle."

She tastes like mint and he can't resist just one more hit. He smooths his mouth over hers, sleepy and slow. He doesn't pull away, neither does she. He's half asleep with their mouths still touching - not moving. Just resting. She relaxes, muscles loosening, breathing becoming even as she's giving in to the pull of slumber.

He knows the moment she slips away - when she abandons him for dreams. It's the way she drops, forehead meeting his chin, the way her fingers stop stroking along his scalp. The sigh that leaves her lungs and the cease of toes sliding back and forth along the top of his foot. She grows still.

She comes here to sleep. She comes here to feel safe and warm and loved. She takes over his bed, commands attention, and in another hour the blankets will be kicked away because she gets hot and restless but she's here. She doesn't have to be but she is. She's choosing to be. He's more than okay with that.


End file.
